


Eggbirth

by Everlind



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Archived From Everlind Blog, Archived From Tumblr, Eggs, Human/Troll Hybrids, M/M, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 09:04:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16910049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everlind/pseuds/Everlind
Summary: John lays an egg.Cuddles are necessary.





	Eggbirth

“Well. That was absolutely disgusting.”

John snorts. At any other time you’d think it a pathetic effort, but after just having seen him lay an egg you’re pretty fucking impressed. You’re not sure how he’s still alive. So much blood.

Some of it is still caught under your nails. Not the first time for that.

John’s face is still wet and he kind of stinks, but he’s smiling a little, you can hear it in his voice. “You put it in there, so you’re going to appreciate the fuck out of the miracle of childbirth. Or eggbirth. Hey! Eggbirth. Egbert. Get it?”

You shunt your horns into broad plane between his shoulder blades. “Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, you went ahead and did exactly that. Like I wasn’t already traumatised from witnessing that albino watermelon slither out of your nook in a rather similar display to the time Gamzee swallowed a motherfucking juggling ball and I was forced to serve as an emotional crutch during its very dismaying journey from his fecal evacuation chute into the load gaper. I believe there were also breathing exercises involved. I trust you see the similarities here, John fucking Eggbirth.”

He huffs out a soft laugh and you lightly scrape your horns over his skin, getting a delicious little shiver out of him.

Said albino watermelon is tucked up close against John’s stomach, even though he just spent several gruelling hours squeezing the blasted thing out of there. Like he’s holding on to this surreal impasse for as long as he can before it inevitably explodes into being ruthlessly real.

It kind of already is. The egg is pale and perfect, lightly dusted with blue and red freckles. John curls around it, exhausted, and you curl around him, terrified. You were more than ready to put it in him -vigorously and at length- but you have no idea what to do now. Every single cell of your body is screaming at you to protect him, it, them, yours, and you feel stupid with not knowing where to begin. You miss being a troll. You hardly understand what you are feeling.

John yawns. Specks of dust flicker in the light, dancing and twirling. It’s early afternoon. Neither of you have slept and John’s exhausted. 

You poke him again. He grunts. “Hey. You absolute disaster. You okay?”

“My nook’s sore,” John deadpans, and you roll your eyes. “I’m alright. Gonna take a century long nap though, so shhhh.”

“For once the words coming out of your mouth actually sound like a coherent and not completely insane plan.”

“Shhhh.”

“Kay.”

“Dude. Shhhh.”

The egg will still be there when you wake up. You schedule an existential crisis for after. 

John’s warm and strong against your front, the egg smooth when you slide a palm over it. Both of them are close and safe, and right where you want them. For now that’s enough.

 

You shhhh.


End file.
